


It Came From The Moon!

by Ghanima_Starkiller



Series: Reimagining Fairy Tales [10]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale), Rotkäppchen | Little Red Riding Hood (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M, Werewolf Sex, dubcon, typical Red Riding Hood warnings should apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-30 01:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10150025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghanima_Starkiller/pseuds/Ghanima_Starkiller
Summary: Little Red Riding Hood meets science fiction, as a lunar base finds itself under siege, and sole survivor Poppy falls prey to an alien life form.





	

Ensign Poppy Červeny wakes when the timer tells her that it has begun the morning cycle. The emergency lighting comes on, and nothing else; the base is all but abandoned now, since the attacks started. The wind whips hard against the titanium exterior, ice lashing at the thick plastic windows. It is dark here all the time on Jupiter's moon Europa, but the constant snowstorms makes it feel even more somber and isolated. 

She makes caff; it's bitter, and only lukewarm, but it wakes her up. She downs it in three swallows; it isn't something that she wants to savor. Her protective suit sits in its dock, in the circular room alongside the others, now left neglected and forgotten. She pulls the red cowl over her head and locks the helmet into place, and though she's only going out to make repairs, she grabs a weapon, too. She puts them into a titanium nacelle and straps it to her back in preparation. 

It has been three cycles since Raúl set out for Europa base Beta, and they have not returned. Today, she is headed towards the West Ridge, where she hopes to boost her communications signal and call for assistance. The recyclers pump stale oxygen into her helmet, and she huffs softly as she hikes. The landscape is barren, glistening. This is Europa. 

In those white dunes, they found the Relic, and from the Relic, they discovered XEUS, the Xenobiological Evolutionary Unicellular Symbiote imperative. Alien life, in the form of a parasite, an infection. She watched the skin cells grow and change in the test dish, listened to the arguments afterward. And then the lights went out. 

She trudges against the wind, the ice scratching her plastic visor. This is no stroll down a pleasant wooded path. When she first sees the form there, covered in ice and dirt, she thinks that it's a drift and dismisses it, until she catches sight of a gleam of metal. "Raúl!" she cries as she turns the crumpled figure over, pulling his arm over her shoulders, trying to haul him along. 

They are closer to the Ridge outpost than the base, so she takes him there; he is delirious, babbling about his hunger. There are rations at the outpost. She seals the lock behind them and relishes the relative warmth of the satellite station and fumbles with their suits. "Oh God, Raúl!" She exclaims, examining the ripped fabric of his uniform. "How did you ever survive?" He moans softly as she helps him into a bunk. 

The outpost is seemingly abandoned, the senior officer who mans it is gone, and only a small trace of a rust colored smear is left in evidence of what happened, where she might have gone. It is on the ceiling. There is a folder on the desk nearby, and scribbled urgently in ink are the words WE ARE THE HUNTED. The kitchen is still fully stocked, and she fills her arms with ration packets and rushes back to the bunk. 

Raúl is gone. 

Her first thought is, oh God, please don't leave me alone here. Panic seizes her for a moment. Her second thought is, don't take Raúl away from me again. There was always such a sweet flirtation between them; they'd been discouraged from taking it any further, but it had always been Raúl's rough, elegant hands she thought of at night, when she touched herself. Only then will she admit that she thinks that she's falling in love with him. 

There isn't much ground to cover in a search. She tells herself that the howling that she hears is only the persistent wind as she commits to the task that she set out to do in the first place: repair the communications array. That's when she hears it, the senior officer's voice, faint and helpless, calling out for her by name. She puts her tools down and stands slowly. 

There is a clatter as she returns to the bunk, where the voice seemed to have come from, a rattle in the ceiling. She freezes. Everything save for the soughing of the wind is silent, and the soft cry of the senior officer's voice. It sounds... off somehow. Perhaps she is injured. And then an arm, thick, muscles and hairy, bursts through the ceiling panels. Poppy screams and runs, trembling at first, panting, wanting to curl into a ball and lie there. No. She has to survive. Remember your training, she tells herself, and slides behind a crate, tucks herself away, hides. 

The thing, the beast, whatever it is, is a mimic; it tries once more to use the senior officer's voice, but realizes that Poppy is not fooled. The footfalls are heavy, slow. THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. She can count her breaths between them. When the creature passes the crate that she is hidden behind, she shrinks away, and sees it in full for the first time. It is lupine, enormous and hulking, covering in coarse brown fur, a thick hide. It raises its bestial snout and she realizes that it is snuffling the sterile air. It turns its massive head to her. It's smelling for HER. 

He heads straight for her, and she runs, screaming, mad with terror. But it's giant paws catch her up too quickly. She struggles, batting at solid forearms, at brawny chest, she kicks and screams until she realizes that he is only holding her down, not attacking. Trying to calm her breathing, calm herself, she looks up into its face for the first time, and sees eyes that she knows. Those beautiful, light hazel-green gaze that she adores, she sees it staring back at her from that dark, animal face. And at first she wants to scream, WHAT DID YOU DO WITH RAUL? 

But she knows. She knows. "My," she stutters breathlessly. "What-what big eyes you have...." And what big teeth, slathered with saliva from hunger. Hunger, that's what Raúl had said; he'd been muttering about his endless, uncontrollable hunger. She is about to learn of it firsthand, though not in the way that she at first suspects.

His lip curls back in a bestial sneer as his talons effortlessly shred her coverall, reveal her body, and she is still struggling, when she is entranced now. She tries to cover her breasts with her hands but he nuzzles them away with his large, wet nose, slathering over them, laving with the thick, red tongue that rolls from his muzzle. Lingering on the tips. 

But it is the source of that delicious scent that he had tracked her by that he seeks, and the fabric tears away easily as his tongue unfurls between her thighs, slips into her pussy. He growls, those remarkable eyes rolling in feral delight. The predator that has found his prey. 

He licks studiously, his tongue sliding in and out of her tight sheath, rolling in the wetness that she is now gushing for him, lapping it from her very walls as he reaches inside, nuzzling, snorting at her clitoris as he feasts. She twists in his grasp, her panting escalating. Saying his name deliriously, repeating it. Her belly grips, her flesh convulsing around him. She goes rigid, and she comes, squeezing his tongue with her inner muscles as they spasm. He growls his pleasure and continues his greedy feasting. She writhes, begging for mercy, wanting none. And she comes again, her senses reeling, her body tight and oversensitive to his touch. 

As the world spin, she realizes that she is turning over, that he has her on her hands and knees and is mounting her from behind. His cock is thick, slick and newly pink with engorgement as he unsheathes, his testicles large and hard, like two furry fists. He slides in, his hot saliva dripping on her back as he throws his head back and howls his pleasure, his claws leaving light scratch marks along her flesh, biting softly as he holds her in place. 

She is submissive, his willing mate, with her ass in the air, and her shoulders and cheek against the cold paracrete of the floor. She has to adjust to his girth, the way he throbs inside; every moment of it, every breath she takes, and feels the pressure of him there, seems like an infinity of bliss. 

And then he begins to move, pumping hard, fast. Her pussy clings to him, as if she can't bear the thought of letting him go, her wetness oiling the ride, making it as smooth as it can be. She feels him all the way at the neck of her womb as he thrusts. She's arching, pushing back against him desperately. He snuffles her hair and gently wraps his jaws around the nape of her neck, possessive, protective. 

She comes once more, and he follows soon after. His copious seed steams as it drips from her thighs to the floor, as he pumps it inside of her. Claiming her. 

He takes her back to the bunk, and he has her again, and again and again. No less ravenous each time. And when it is time, at last, she calls for help. 

The U.S.S. Hunter responds with a rescue team. She smirks as they help her aboard, and closes her eyes as she hears the howl in the distance. "You hear that?" one crewman says, his eyes wide. 

"Just the wind," the paramedic treating Poppy says with a shrug, her smile is secretive and sly as she lays back on the gurney.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle 2017, prompt words: sci fi, tongue, chase, eyes


End file.
